Living life out in another country broadens and stretches your inner tranquility. It pushes you to be incredibly different and react different.
Traveling is not changing addresses or food habits but having the right attitude. Having the attitude that strives after defeat, that cares for each and every one more than yourself and to see the silver lining instead of the dense fog overhead.
Zambia is no different.
One month I have been here and attitude is the one thing I am proud to have brought in my suitcase.
One month and I have been robbed.
One month and that same day, my host sister passed away with mysterious malaria like symptoms.
One month and I have cried. One month. It was enough.
Zambia did not wait for me to be ready or for me to get used to Zambia.
Zambia did not wait or surprise me before I began to love my host family and my loving sisters.
Before I helped take care of my host sister’s child.
Before I compared the life of a twenty two year old traveler out of college and a twenty five year mother of three year twin boys and a seven month old baby boy with smuggled nuts in his cheeks like a squirrel.
I loved them and shared so much with my family than I ought to. I lucked out with my homestay. I am so lucky and in one month, I fell.
After that horrible twelve hours, the last thing I wanted to think about was the girl who stole money from my window. Money can be returned. Jewelry can be remade. But losing a sister I actually loved…
Be careful of wanderlust. A drug so powerful can break you and force you to push yourself and your bank account. But if you have the right attitude, you can ride its highs and brave it’s lows.
This week has been too hard on me. And sometimes I cry at night for her. I cry for being so helpless and then when I think that there was actually nothing I could’ve done. She was 25.
Attitude counts. In twelve hours, Zambia has tested me and through a flu, I had to mourn. Zambia has tested me but I will brave this.
I’ve packed light but I sure as hell packed well.